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I’m ashamed to say… There was a point in the super bowl game when I lost the faith.

My thoughts went like this… This is so sad. We came all this way and the Patriots are going to lose the Super Bowl. Maybe this whole challenge was a bad idea. Troy worked so hard for this? ad naseum.

But then, I put on my Pollyanna hat…We’re still here. It’s a privilege, a once in a lifetime experience. And our team doesn’t HAVE to win. The pre-game energy, the city bustling with rivalry and camaraderie. Strangers highfiving in the streets, even the heckling from falcon fans was fun. So what if the Patriots lose the Super Bowl.(FML)

After every possession, I did the math… Okay, I thought, just two touchdowns and we can bring this game around. Ok, three. Or a series of other combinations of plays. Oh what do I know?! We’re doomed! (Queue neurotic stress-eating)

All week, Troy had regaled me with random stats and superstitions that ensured a Patriot’s victory. Apparently, 11 of last 12 Super Bowls, the team wearing the white jerseys won. Did you know that? No? How about this one? In the last ten Super Bowls, if the league MVP played, his team lost. Or this one… The Patriots are 16-0 when Deion Lewis plays and 8-0 without Gronk.

All week, Troy was confident, cocky even. (As no Patriot fans are. Noooooo.) He had cursed it! That or the fact that when a groundhog has seen his shadow, the Patriots have lost the super bowl 4 out of 5 times. (???)

What a sad conclusion to Troy’s 90 day challenge. You made it Troy. The one time in your life you’ll go to super bowl (unless we win the lottery or a daughter marries an NFL player or something), you got to watch your team lose. This is why I’m not a football fan. The stress.

At this point of despondency, I sat back in chair wolfing down a jumbo popcorn and Troy kissed his wedding ring. No joke. He literally took it from his finger and smooched it. What compelled him to do it? No idea. What does it have to do with super bowl? Your guess is as good as mine. And why is it part of a desperation prayer? I’m not sure if I’m offended.

The rest is a blur. It has since been filled in because Troy has watched the plays and highlights nonstop for the last 36 hours.

All I know is there was score after score and wild jumping/screaming/all round hysterics. Troy’s iWatch alerted him to reaching his fitness goal, from his seat. The game went overtime. Win. Pandemonium. Tears. Pretty much like that.

When a Fox News anchor pulled us aside to ask how we felt about the game, Troy replied “F***ing amazing!” Needless to say, we didn’t make the news. Aaaaand there goes my chance at fame.

I’m still in awe, shock. This had to be one of the best games I’ve ever seen, let alone Super Bowl. The fear➡️the despair➡️the hope➡️the euphoria.

I’m in a bit of a conundrum. The Nagging Spouse Challenge is at its end. (That’s not the conundrum. The Nagging Spouse has no end.) The problem is whether Troy is going to Super Bowl.

So here’s the deal. I will set before you, judge and jury, the results of the Nagging Spouse 90 Day Six Pack Challenge because ultimately, Troy’s prize is in your hands.

I took this yesterday in our kitchen. Not exactly a six-pack…

Troy says, “If you close one eye and squint the other…”

On the one hand, I value justice, integrity, true-to-your-word grit. Sometimes that means I’m not very nice. (Just ask my kids.) I’m not really an A-for-effort kind of person. What kind of challenge would it be if everyone won? This side of me says that Troy is not going to Super Bowl 2017.

But then there’s the other hand, the one that massaged Troy’s tired muscles and filmed him sweating his way through a three-mile run. The hand that served him meal after meal of kale/brussel sprout/spinach surprise (which he ate, without complaint, most of the time). Despite my desire to be fair, I also feel Troy deserves credit for the last grueling 90 days. More than just, “Well, you did your best. Close, but no cigar.” See, I’m not as mean as my kids think I am. And it’s not like he didn’t accomplish anything. He slaved away, made sacrifices (cue sober-holiday sad face) and TRANSFORMED before my very eyes.

So I’m going to do what most people when faced with a difficult decision. I’m going to delegate it. To you.

Earlier this month, within the span of a week, we had a triple threat. Christmas party, 50th bday party and annual botanical gardens trip with friends (which sounds like a sober affair… but not when you’re a weasel 😉)

The Troy I know would have been pre-partying in preparation for the fun.

Buuuuut not the Troy of late. He had his eye on the prize and was wary of backsliding.

“If I work out twice as hard, maybe it won’t be so bad…” he said. This, mind you, was a random rumination at the dinner table. I looked at my husband, mouth agape. Who is this guy?

At one point, the nagging spouse stopped nagging because I couldn’t have pushed Troy harder than he pushed himself. Of course, he’s not so wary of letting loose for New Year’s Eve.

New Year’s is one of our favorite holidays. It’s one time in the year, that you realign yourself on your course. Review the year and those before, glean what you can, regroup and plot how to do it better.

We have a tradition of running away to the mountains or desert where we build a cocoon, toast ourselves and our many blessings and then watch the sun rise on the new year and ooze gratitude. No nagging spouses allowed.

Packing for the little getaway (sans children), I brought 2 bottles of champagne and 4 bottles of wine. He looked at the bag and scrunched up his nose. Was that a judgy look?

A little embarrassed, I said, “I figured we could just bring home the extra.”

“You know that we’re staying two nights, right?” he said in a “duh” tone I didn’t particularly appreciate. Then he shrugged. “I guess we can buy more while we’re out there.”

For those of you keeping count, you might notice that the Nagging Spouse 90 day challenge should be coming to its end. Surely, you’re on pins and needles for a progress report.

The official end day should be December 28th. However, I’ve extended the challenge until December 31st, New Year’s Eve, for a couple reasons.

I like the sound of it better. New year, new Troy. Dawn of a new era. That kind of thing. This is assuming there is a new Troy or new era.

Mulligans, as Troy calls them. Halloween, my birthday(s), parties, Christmas, etc. – unavoidable pitfalls in Troy’s quest for a six pack. As judge, jury and executioner, I have forgiven him 3 days for these pitfalls. Graceful, I know. 😌 What’s a Mulligan, you ask? Here.

He came down with a bug on Christmas Eve. 😷Did that stop him from exercising EVERY day? No ma’am. Did that keep him sick longer? Probably. Moderation… He doesn’t do that.

Troy’s Mail Order Nagging Mistress showed up a couple weeks ago and I’ll be damned if she isn’t getting him to work even harder ….

showing off his new schwag

It’s one thing to harangue your husband that he needs more cardio and it’s another to have this oh-so-credible device do it. “Sorry honey,” he says. “I gotta go for a walk or I’ll break my standing streak.” (??)

But I’m not complaining! The single biggest thing the nagging mistress is doing is making him move. Because it ALL counts now. 😁 When I posed the “Now, cleaning the garage counts as exercise…” logic, he looked at me, one eyebrow arched, and hit the stationary bike. Oh well. I tried.

Funny thing is, the more he moves throughout the day, the more energy he has. Sometimes, he’s almost jittery with it. It’s one of those counter-intuitive things, like how sleep begets sleep and eating fat burns fat and how more choice means more dissatisfaction. Like that.

Over the last 6 weeks, Fitwall has gotten a crash course in Flowers Clan. We travel in packs. They didn’t know that when they signed Troy up, we would all move in!

It started with Troy’s sister, Jody. She was actually the one who originally introduced Troy to Fitwall. Now, the staff has gotten used to Troy’s nagging spouse photographing/filming him, often with one, or both, children in tow.

But that’s not all, there’s more!

When, Lila, our eldest daughter came home from New York before going overseas, Troy talked her into a class. She’s a model so working out is in her job description and Troy was looking for a someone to validate his pain being a helpful, motivating, totally not self-serving father.

(If you ask me, I think Troy was feeling like a boss. He hadn’t “almost puked in class” for weeks now and was eager to have a protégé to show the ropes to and maybe watch suffer a little. It’s just a guess but a pretty good one, IMHO.)

And, much to Troy’s chagrin, she rocked it!

(Now, I’m not only a nagging spouse, I’m also an embarrassing mother. 2-for-1 on this filming expedition.)

Aren’t they sweet? The next day, you should have heard them… oh the comradery in complaint! Good, old-fashioned family bonding, people. #familygoals

Now, with two classes under Lila’s belt, she’s out recruiting comrades of her own. So Troy’s converted one teenager. Now, to convert the other…

Well, I’m baaaack. It’s been awhile, yes. Your feed has not been colored with Nagging Spouse rhetoric, photos of the sweaty guy or recounted adventures in weight loss. I’m sorry and you’re welcome.

It’s because we’ve been busy birthday celebrating, or better said, we’ve been busy birthday celebrating. Troy only splurges when he’s celebrating, but being a glass-half-full kind of guy, he always has SOMETHING to celebrate. My birthday was as good a reason as any.

I’m not complaining. Troy always does my birthday right, full of spoilage and indulgence, and wine. There’s always lots of that. Except this year, being the calorie conscious nagged spouse that he is, Troy opted for Vodka, ya know, for health reasons. So that went well.

Recent conversation between one of Troy’s friends (who shall remain unnamed) and his mother…

Unnamed Friend: “Troy and I are drinking vodka rather than wine because it is healthier.”

Unnamed Friend’s mother: “And that made sense to you?”

We started my birthday month old skool at Zen 5 in Pacific Beach, where it all began with rolls and reggae. This is where the nagging spouse, by small degrees, converted Troy to a sushi eater. 16 years ago!

We’d trade, one Rocky’s hamburger for one sushi dinner. Troy ordered cucumber/cream cheese rolls and Sapporo and we sake-bombed the night away. Small victories.

From there, we saw how the other half live, or the other 1%. One of Troy’s friends lent us his yacht for the weekend. Not slummin.

Found this on Troy’s phone. Haha! Yeah, that’s about right.

Cocktail as you watch the sunset from a bitchin yacht? Don’t mind if I do. Champagne with breakfast? How’d you know? We nagging spouses aren’t impervious! I might have let go of the reins a little bit. 😕